


Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

by threewalls



Category: Final Fantasy XII, Final Fantasy XII: Revenant Wings
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, F/M, First Time, Interspecies, Tentacles, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-30
Updated: 2009-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tentacles! Xeno! Spoilers for Balthier's genetics and vieran attitudes to interspecies breeding from FFXII:RW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> With thanks to lynndyre for beta.

"Not what you were expecting, are they?"

They were five, no, six, fingers of flesh, each similar in thickness to those of his hands but longer. Their skin was smoother, and their flesh pale pink, not tanned, and blushing purple at the capped tips. The tips looked like cockheads, but no shaft of hume cock Fran had ever seen could bend as they did, entwining amongst themselves and slowly, slowly spreading out from between the split-open fly of Balthier's trousers.

From the tightening of his brow, the flush deepening on Balthier's face as well as on his-- what to call them?-- Fran wondered whether he held them as still as he could.

"I was born at the end of my father's biological research period. By the time I was five, when I can actually remember, he'd changed his field to aerodynamics. Just like at fourteen, it was suddenly energy weap-- Fran!"

Fran took back her hand, stopping just short of touching the tendrils stretching out to meet her. She had not expected protest from a man who had just this evening fingered her to orgasm sitting in his lap. Balthier still had his trousers half-on; Fran was nude. Weeks and weeks of Balthier being good, and then far too good to her with his clever hands and clever, clever tongue. Fran had wanted to return the favour, wanted to undo him with pleasure as he undid her. She still did, but now had fewer ideas where to begin.

Fran had never, ever seen organs like this, not on any species and she had enjoyed many. The tendrils smelt like hume skin and hume arousal, like Balthier's other scents, his sweat, leather and engine oil. Like all of these, but also something uniquely his. Balthier had always smelt different, an alluring hint of difference that was now much stronger in the air. Fran breathed deeply.

"Purity," a voice in Fran's ear counselled. "Expel, reject the halfbreed." She ignored it with the ease of practice. She was no longer viera and did not need to deny her curiosity and interest.

"Are they sensitive?"

"You want to touch them?" he asked. Balthier's voice sounded strained.

Fran nodded enthusiastically, trying to remember to alternate looking Balthier's face and his groin. Not easy when she crouched in front of his chair, and in between his spread knees. He gripped his knees, to keep from fidgeting while she watched him. Balthier was bare-knuckled, his rings strung on the chain around his neck. Fran thought of buying more rings for him, other rings. Later, later.

"Would you like me to?" she asked.

Some tendrils moved clumsily towards her hand; some away. All slid smoothly past any other, slick with sweat.

"Yes. Very much. I expected seeing the other side of puberty to help with control, but--" Balthier shrugged, something he wasn't telling her loud in his eyes.

Fran thought of the two years before he'd allowed her to touch him, driving her mad with his banter, his shiny metal, his teasing smell! That she'd seen the bare skin of his back for the first time to pick shrapnel from it.

"Do you use one hand or two?" Fran asked.

"Two," he said, turning his head to follow as Fran stood and walked behind the chaise.

Fran bent to lean against his shoulders, to place her hands on Balthier's hands, stroking along the curve between his thumb and forefinger. She could smell his sweat rising thick and musky, and the strange and wonderful scent from his tendrils. Fran could hear his pulse louder than her own.

"Show me how?"

\---

What Balthier does is like weaving, oiled fingers interlaced with tendrils interlaced with fingers. They must be careful, so careful of the edges of her nails and his tendrils. His tendrils feel like little cocks, pulse-quick and smooth to the touch, yet not yielding. Even though he is teaching, even though Balthier is talking as they touch, he finishes flatteringly fast.

"We'll need to wait a few minutes before they'll untangle." Balthier leans back, his forehead seeking the curve of her neck. "Fran... thank you."

Fran licks the curve of his ear. "My pleasure."

Later, they shower, separately in turn, but Balthier invites her to watch. Fran does so, licking every trace of him from her hands, wrists and arms. Six tendrils, but two testicles. Fran wonders how long it had been for him; how long until they'll do this again. If they will. She hopes so.

They have a canopied bed broad enough for a imperial orgy and most of the space lies between them. The sun rose in Portumnale while they washed and they know an Ordalian mid-day too well to bother with sheets. Balthier has cotton pants that brush his ankles to sleep in. Fran has one of his shirts that has seen many adventures. They rest curled on their sides, but facing. Only their outstretched hands touch. Balthier's rings catch on her nails, chime too high for him to hear. Fran smiles, drowsy and content.

"Gil for your thoughts?" he asks.

"I wonder how many I could fit."

Balthier's laughter has never sounded so good.


End file.
